Overcome
by christylee
Summary: COMPLETED! After a devastating breakup with Lizzie, Gordo decides to give up girls completely. Easier said than done, when he and gal pal Miranda discover their friendship may be masking deeper feelings than either suspect. MG all the way! Well, almost
1. Gordo the Monk

**_OVERCOME_**

_or..._

_Drugs, Sex, and Rock & Roll: Gordo- Style_

_  
In my story The Graduate, reference is made to an event that happens to Gordo the sumnmer after tenth grade. This story picks up directly after that event. You don't need to read that story to understand this one. This story stands on its own, though a knowledge of my other Gordo stories would certainly make this one richer._

_By the way, this one is not going to be an "epic." I see three, maybe four chapters. Drugs, sex and rock and roll? I've got a lot to fit into a few chapters!  
_

_For BK03, not only will this be MG, it will also be the "What Planet Are We On?" scenario I hinted at earlier._

_Everybody, enjoy!_

-

-

David Gordon made a decision. He was swearing off sex.

Not that he had ever actually had sex---unless you counted a few really good kisses, copping a feel now and then, and what happened (way too often, he feared) when he was alone in his bedroom at night---but all this thinking about sex! It had to stop! It was getting him into trouble.

The summer that Gordo made this decision, he was sixteen years old, hovering between his sophomore and junior year of high school. His hormones had kicked into high gear, clouding his once sharp mind with thoughts and images that only a few years ago would have appalled him.

For four months he had dated Lizzie McGuire, his lifelong friend who had somehow now become the object of all his affection and fantasies. He loved Lizzie so much, but out of respect for her, he restrained himself. It was difficult, but he was willing to do it. For Lizzie.

Then Parker McKenzie came into the picture. Gordo did not love Parker. He did not even like her very much. But she had obsessively set all her attention on him, and earlier this summer had orchestrated a horrific scene at the beach which found him naked in the water with her, both of them exploring each other's bodies in full view of all their friends. Including Lizzie.

After that day, Gordo and Lizzie were history. Gordo spent sleepless nights grieving the loss of Lizzie's love. He spent countless hours beating himself up over his inexcusable behavior. Why had he done it, why had he touched that girl, why had he kissed her? He didn't even like her! It made no sense. And if there was one thing you could say about David "Gordo" Gordon, it was that he always made sense.

Until now.

With all the care of a Socratic philosopher, Gordo reviewed his dilemma countless times while pining away in his lonely bedroom, throwing a ball repeatedly against the wall until at last his usually amiable mother would crack and scream at him from the next room, "Stop all that racket!"

Out of respect for his mother, Gordo would stop and lie still on the bed and know with certainly what he needed to do to get his pathetic life back in order.

He needed to swear off sex.

-

"Dude!" his best friend Larry exclaimed when Gordo at last got up the nerve to share his momentous decision. "You are totally insane!"

"I'm not insane," Gordo insisted. "But I will be if I don't get this under control. It's taking over my life, Tudge. Look what it's done already to me and Lizzie."

"If you mean that thing where Parker all but raped you in the water---"

"It's not just that," Gordo said miserably. "It's every thought of every waking moment. I'm sick of it. What happened to the smart, self-assured guy I was? I want my life back."

"You're just feeling a little depressed, and a little guilty about what happened," Larry reasoned. "And now you're doing nothing but sitting around, wasting a perfectly good summer, bored and lonely, missing Lizzie. You've got to keep busy, pally. Maybe find a new girl---"

"No!" Gordo exclaimed. "No new girls!"

"But Meryl's cousin is here from New Jersey, and she's so cute, you should see her…"

"Does Meryl know you think her cousin is cute?" Gordo wondered.

"No, and you're not going to tell her," Larry instructed. "Besides, I'm just looking. I would never do anything about it."

Gordo sighed. "Great. For guys who can control themselves. Unlike me."

"Okay, look," Larry said. "You just need to stop dwelling. If you don't want a new girlfriend, at least get a hobby. Better yet, a job. I hear Food Giant is still hiring for the summer. You could start saving for a car."

Gordo nodded. A car. A job. He could have a life again. A life without women and a life without sex, but some kind of life, all the same. Something more than bouncing a ball off the wall and aggravating the hell out of his poor mother.

He went down to the Food Giant, filled out an application, and laid on the mature and responsible act so heavily during his interview that the very next day he was putting on a polyester shirt and bagging groceries.

It wasn't exactly his idea of a good time, or even a good job. He rightly felt that bagging groceries was well below his superior intellect. He should be selling computers down at Circuit City! Now that was the job for him! But job options were limited for a sixteen year old, and at least spending so much time looking at food was keeping his mind off sex and all his personal problems.

-

On the Fourth of July, Gordo spent the whole day working at the grocery store. As he walked home that night, he saw fireworks exploding in the distance and felt very sad. He was supposed to have spent this day with Lizzie and her family, at the beach. But after what has happened the last time he had been to the beach, he couldn't think about ever going there again. And of course, Lizzie wouldn't even look at him now, never mind snuggle up to his side, gazing up at fireworks, a look of wonderment in her pretty hazel eyes.

All his friends had apparently made other plans for the Fourth which did not include him. Tudge had Meryl, Danny had Allison, and even Miranda had Jeremy. Gordo had nobody. When he got home, he discovered that even his mom and dad had gone out together, leaving him nothing to eat for dinner.

"Well, that's just great," he sighed. Luckily, he had brought home a 24- pack of ice cream sandwiches. He plopped down on the couch and began to eat those, getting through five before his stomach began to object.

Every day in Food Giant, as Gordo packed bags, he forced his mind to not atrophy by making a game out of trying to pack each bag better than the last. It could not be too heavy, or too light, and it must be symmetrical and balanced; cold stuff went with cold stuff, soaps and beauty products with other soap and beauty products, raw meats nowhere near fresh produce, and easily squashed items at the top of the bag, not the bottom. His job was a jigsaw puzzle, and the groceries were the pieces.

Bujt even as he kept all these things in mind, he had plenty of brainpower left to notice the wide variety of foods passing by him. Some were simple and wonderful foods, like these ice cream sandwiches, and others were odd and exotic, like Kefir and tofu and persimmons. He was making a point of bringing home one new food each day. Thinking about food so much seemed to help keep his mind off sex.

Ice cream sandwiches weren't exactly exotic, but his mother never bought them, so in a sense they were new, and they were the one bright spot in this otherwise sad and lonely holiday. Until they gave him this terrific stomachache.

But a stomachache was a good thing, in a sort of twisted way, he reasoned, because if his stomach was hurting, it would be that much easier not to be tempted by the other parts of his body which so frequently cried out for attention.

Well, that _one_ other part…

But every day was getting a little easier, and he felt he was making progress in his quest to desexify himself. He was only beginning to get over Lizzie, but he was definately thinking less and less about sex in general.

This looked to be a difficult night in that regard, though, with his melancholy thoughts about being alone on a holiday. So the stomachache was a godsend, a distraction. He did not even stop at the fridge for the Pepto Bismol, opting instead to feel the pain.

As he stood up to go to bed, he loudly proclaimed to the empty house, "What you feed, grows. What you starve, dies."

Gordo had heard his parents, the psychiatrists, say this many times, and had adopted its' wisdom as his gamelan for his future. He would starve his sexual impulses until they were undoubtedly dead. And he would feed his face with all kinds of exotic and wonderful foods, if that's what it took to keep the impulses from springing back up to life.

Unfortunately, as he lay down in bed that night with his stomach churning from too much ice cream, the insanity of this gameplan brought forth a most disturbing image.

He saw himself in ten years from now, enormous from eating too many ice cream sandwiches and persimmons in his desperate attempt to stuff back his sexual impulses. Of course, being sexless, he would have to become a priest…or a monk! That was ridiculous, of course, him being Jewish, but rabbis could still get married, and he didn't want any part of that. He didn't want anything to do with the opposite sex. They were always getting him into trouble! No, his best bet would be to convert to Catholicism, so he could become a monk.

Gordo. The fat monk. He laughed. At last the Spanish interpretation of his nickname, which Miranda had revealed to him many years ago, would have some real significance. _Senor Gordo_, they would call him. _Father Gordo, the fat monk._

Gordo could not really wrap his mind around the idea of being fat. He had always been so short and skinny, it seemed nearly impossible he could ever change enough to actually become fat. It wasn't in his nature, he reasoned.

The same way, he further reasoned, almost despite himself, it wasn't in his nature to give up thinking about sex. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he crazy? Was he---as Larry had put it---totally insane? This couldn't possibly work.

"What you feed, grows!" he repeated insistently to the dark ceiling of his room. "What you starve, dies!" Then, with utmost determination, he rolled to his side, grit his teeth, and fought the impulses with everything he had in him.

He would be Father Gordo, the fat monk. He would never think about sex. He would only think about God and helping other people. He would never do anything wrong. He would never think about himself at all.

But just now, as he finally began to fall asleep, more from mental exhaustion than anything else, he wondered if, when he was a monk, they would make him shave off all his hair. He liked his hair. He didn't want to shave it off. He would look terrible bald.

_There I go again!_ Gordo thought. _Thinking about myself Why should I care whether or not I have hair? Who's going to see me, anyway, except a bunch of other bald, fat monks? There won't be any girls around to ----_

"Aaaaaargh!" Gordo screamed to the ceiling.

This was a losing battle.


	2. Best Friends

_Now we get into the MG._

_-_

_- _

The best thing about summer, as far as most teenagers were concerned, was that there was no school. Gordo wasn't sure he agreed with this. He liked school. It gave him something to do with his brain, and provided ample opportunity for showing off his best skills.

The worst thing about summer, as far as most teenagers were concerned, was that it had to come to an end, sending them back to school.

Gordo could not wait for this summer to end. Sure, he was making a little money bagging groceries at Food Giant, but the worst thing about this summer was the _women._ He was trying so hard not to be distracted, but it seemed every female who came into the store, in order to stave off the summer heat, dressed in little more than a bathing suit, or short shorts with a tank top.

Gordo saw tank tops, halter tops, and midriffs, and more often than not it was painfully obvious that bras were not considered a summer fashion necessity. He tried so hard not to notice, but it was a losing battle. He noticed, and he hated himself for it afterwards.

Eventually he decided to stop looking at the customers altogether. This was the only way. He kept his head down and concentrated on the groceries, thinking, _cold stuff with cold stuff…meat in one bag, produce in another…Hey! These cherries look good. And they're on sale. I think I'll---_

"Hey, boy!" he heard a familiar voice teasing him. "Be careful you don't pop my cherries!"

Gordo felt himself turning as red as the cherries he was handling. He looked up and saw Miranda, his lifelong friend, giving him the biggest, silliest grin.

"Hey, Randa…" he smiled. She had been away for a month, visiting relatives in Mexico, and Gordo couldn't believe how glad he felt to see her now.

"So how long have you been working here at Food Giant?" Miranda wondered.

"Oh…just a little longer than you've been making jokes about me popping your cherry," Gordo could not resist saying with a crooked grin.

Miranda returned the smile, her brown eyes shining. "Sorry," she said. "I couldn't resist."

"Neither could I," Gordo smirked.

Miranda was okay. He could joke like this with Miranda, as easily as she could joke with him. Miranda was his oldest friend, if you didn't count Lizzie--- and you really _couldn't_ count Lizzie anymore--- so she did indeed step into this position of honor.

Sure, she was a girl, and he was studiously avoiding girls these days, but somehow with Miranda that didn't matter. So what if she was wearing demin short shorts with what looked like a little boy's undershirt? (At least she was wearing a bra, Gordo gratefully noted.) This was Miranda, who had been with him through every elementary and middle school crisis, a true buddy if ever there was one.

They stood for a moment, looking at each other, then Miranda said, "Wow! Gordo at Food Giant."

Gordo blushed again. "Please," he said. "It's hardly a career."

"How you doin', bud?" Miranda asked with sudden concern. " I mean, after Lizzie and all?"

"You heard about that?"

"Everybody's heard about that," Miranda said. "I got off the plane and they were talking about it at the airport."

"Way to spread the sunshine, Randa," Gordo said sarcastically.

"Oh, Miranda! Look who it is!"

Miranda's mother came forward, having unloaded the last of the groceries. She fussed over her bagboy, saying, "Gordo, sweetie! Haven't seen you in ages. You're getting so tall!"

"Thanks, Mrs. Sanchez," Gordo said politely.

"And a working man!"

"Please, Mom," Miranda said, dryly. "It's hardly a career."

As the cashier informed Mrs. Sanchez of the total bill, her attention was temporarily diverted, and in that moment Gordo and Miranda shared a glance.

"My mom's a trip, isn't she?" Miranda whispered.

"No more than my mom," Gordo said.

"How've you been, Gordo? Really? You look…"

"I look…what?" he asked, almost in alarm.

"I don't know," Miranda said. "Are you okay?"

Gordo continued bagging. He didn't really want to answer that question, but he knew that if Miranda had her mind set on getting an answer (and it appeared she did, having now asked twice in the last five minutes), then there would be no way to escape the inevitable.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, as Gordo escorted Mrs. And Ms. Sanchez to their car in the parking lot, filling it with bags of groceries, Miranda suggested, "Hey, Mom, would it be alright if Gordo came over for dinner one night?"

"Oh, certainly!" Mrs. Sanchez agreed. "If fact, why not tomorrow night? I'm making a brisket. Do you like brisket, Gordo honey?"

"I love brisket!" Gordo exclaimed.

"Then you must come," Mrs. Sanchez said. "It will be nice, like old times. And you and Miranda can console each other."

"Console?" Gordo asked.

Miranda looked down. "Jeremy and I broke up," she said quietly. "Fourth of July."

"Oh…" Gordo said, also quietly. So. He hadn't been the only one having a miserable Fourth. In fact, in this moment, Miranda looked just as heartbroken as he had felt immediately after breaking up with Lizzie. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to console her.

"I'm not working tomorrow," Gordo said. "I'd really like to come for dinner."

Miranda smiled at him weakly. "Good," she said. "We can _console_ each other."

Gordo nodded.

"Lovely!" Mrs. Sanchez exclaimed. "How about six thirty?"

-

Gordo was a bit surprised at how excited he felt to be visiting Miranda again. It wasn't the kind of excited he got when going out on a date with a girl he really liked, but it was definitely more than he felt when he talked with Tudge or Danny.

He imagined it mostly had to do with the fact that he knew he would have a sympathetic ear. Lately it seemed that all his guy friends were so busy with their own girlfriends they didn't have much time to listen to his problems. And even if they did, he knew the best he could hope for was, "Get over it, dude! Pick yourself up and start again. It's not the end of the world."

But with Miranda, he knew he could expect so much more.

And Miranda did not disappoint. After a fabulous dinner with the family, Miranda offered to take out the garbage, insisting Gordo go with her to the side of the house.

"Hey, come around back," she said, dropping the bag in the trash can. "We got this new swing thing."

"A swing thing?" Gordo questioned.

"Yeah, come see."

They went through the side gate and around to the back porch, where Gordo instantly saw the "swing thing." From a large, sturdy wooden frame hung a wide bench, covered by a cushion. They sat down and played on it for a while, seeing how high they could make it go, and whether or not they could gracefully jump off the seat to the grass. They were able to jump, but not gracefully. They laughed at each other as they took turns, then decided to try it together.

"Okay! One…two…three…JUMP!"

They landed together with a thud on the cool grass, doubling over with laughter. It felt so good to be laughing, Gordo reflected, as at last they began to calm down. He lie back on the grass, heaving a mighty sigh, and as he did, he looked up into the night sky. It was clear, and he could see the Big Dipper.

"Hey, look!" he said. "The Big Dipper!"

"And the Little Dipper!" Miranda noted, also pointing.

"Can you find Orion?" Gordo asked, quizzing her.

"That's the one with the brightest star, right? In the belt?"

They stared into the night sky, their eyes adjusting to the darkness, gradually seeing more and more stars. Gordo heard himself relaying all kinds of information about constellations and planets which he had picked up in countless science classes. As he listened to himself going on and on, it at last occurred to him that he was being a know-it-all, and he made himself stop.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly, looking up at Miranda, who was now leaning over him, propped up on her elbow.

"What are you sorry for?"

"For being such a goddamn know-it-all. When really…"

"Really what?" Miranda asked gently, when he did not finish his thought.

He looked up at her and sighed. God! He needed to talk to someone. He wanted to talk with Miranda. He kept looking at her, then finally said, uneasily, "Cone of Silence?"

She grinned at him, almost sadly. She knew she was pathetic about maintaining the Cone of Silence. "I promise," she said, hoping he would believe her.

"Are you sure?" Gordo asked uncertainly.

"How about some collateral?" Miranda said. "I'll tell you something about me. Also Cone of Silence. We'll keep each other's secrets. Deal?" She offered her fist, and after a moment Gordo brought up his own fist, rolling his knuckles against hers. It was now a sacred vow.

Gordo looked up into the starry sky, sighing again, and said, "The thing is, Miranda…I really don't know anything. Not about anything that really matters, anyway."

They lay on the grass then for hours, talking, revealing , confessing. Sometimes Miranda was up on her elbow, sometimes Gordo, sometimes both, facing each other. They talked about their painful breakups, their insecurities with the opposite sex, their reluctance to enter into a new relationship and risk getting hurt all over again.

Gordo told Miranda he was "swearing off women," because this was easier to say than "swearing off sex." He and Miranda were close, but not that close. She didn't need all the details of his pathetic life. Still, she seemed to understand, drawing the deepest meaning from the few words he was able to utter.

Miranda told him about Jeremy, who had apparently decided his girlfriend was not worth waiting for until she returned from her month long vacation in Mexico. During the fireworks, on their first night back together, Jeremy announced that he had been seeing a lot of this girl Heather while Miranda had been away…

"Oh, that's harsh," Gordo said, feeling so sorry for her. "What a jackass. You don't mind me saying that, do you?"

"No, of course not. He _is _a jackass," Miranda agreed. "What should I have expected? He's a guy. All guys are jackasses."

Having spoken quickly, Miranda suddenly realized she was now likely to get the Logic Argument from Gordo; you could not draw conclusions about the whole based on the properties of individual parts. She braced herself for the onslaught, but it never came.

Instead, she felt him sigh, then heard him say, "Yeah, all guys are jackasses. Present company included."

"Gordo! Not you! I didn't mean you!"

"I'm not a guy?"

"Not to me you aren't. I mean you are, but you aren't. Because I know you would never do anything like that to me. Mostly because I know we would never find ourselves in a situation like that. Because you're always going to be my friend, aren't you? I mean… my friend, and only my friend. Right?"

Gordo looked at her. She was staring up at him, hopefully, waiting for confirmation. She so obviously needed Gordo to say yes, he would always be her friend.

Slowly, he smiled at her. "Yeah," he said finally. "Friends for life, Randa."

She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling. "Thanks," she said. "You're the only guy I can rely on, to always be there, and never be a jackass."

"With you," he agreed. "Never a jackass. With every other girl in the world…"

"Don't worry, Gordo. There'll be somebody, someday---"

"I don't want somebody someday," Gordo said. "I really don't. I just want you to be my friend. That's all I want. Is that okay, Randa?"

Miranda nodded. "Yeah, that's okay. And I just want you to be my friend. No complications, no problems, no stupid stuff. Just friends."

Gordo looked at her. "Okay, " he said quietly.

They both lay back on the grass then, looking up at the stars, and nothing more was said. Some time passed, neither was sure how much. Finally, Mrs. Sanchez was heard at the back door, calling "Chica¿Dónde estas?"

"Here, Mom!" Miranda said, sitting up on the grass.

"Oh, there you both are! Gordo, your mother just called, looking for you. She needs you home."

"What for?"

"Well, it's after midnight."

"It is?" Gordo and Miranda exclaimed in unison. "Holy crap!"

Then they laughed together as they stood up, brushing themselves off.

"I gotta go," Gordo said.

"See you tomorrow?" Miranda asked.

"It already is tomorrow."

"Don't be a smart ass," Miranda said, dryly.

"Well," Gordo philosophized. "Is better than being a jackass."

Then they both laughed again.

Gordo went home that night, warmed by his renewed vows of friendship with Miranda, and for the first time in weeks, had no trouble whatsoever falling asleep.


	3. Decision

Chapter iii: Decision

After that, if Gordo wasn't bagging groceries at Food Giant, he could most likely be found hanging out with Miranda. It seemed that Miranda and Gordo were the only ones among their friends that summer who were single, so rather than spend uncomfortable time as an awkward third wheel, they simply enjoyed each other's company.

Of course, on occasion, Tudge still mentioned Meryl's cousin, who apparently was very anxious to meet Gordo, so she herself could stop being the third wheel, but Gordo remained firm in his conviction: _no new girls! _

He was so much more comfortable with Miranda, with whom he knew exactly what to expect, and none of it was uncomfortable or scary. They played video games, they watched movies, they challenged each other at Scrabble. Sometimes they just sat on the swing in Miranda's backyard and talked for hours.

They also ate lots and lots of snacks, which Gordo would bring back to Miranda's house after his shift at Food Giant. "Look what I have now!" he would exclaim, pulling out treats from a plastic grocery bag, like Mary Poppins unpacking her carpetbag of tricks.

Miranda almost always approved of his choices. She was most fond of the sweet treats, especially anything that was fruit flavored. One night Gordo brought a can of Comstock cherry pie filling and a Pet-Ritz frozen pie crust. They baked a cherry pie together, joking all the while about popping the cherries.

Gordo loved that he could joke with Miranda like this. When he was alone, his decision to swear off sex seemed so serious and severe, but when he was with Miranda, he found it surprisingly easy to joke around. A couple of times he almost told Miranda about his image of himself as Father Gordo, the Fat Monk, but at the last moment decided it sounded way to ridiculous to put into words. Still, he wanted to share with her as much as he felt comfortable sharing. Their friendship was stronger than it had ever been.

Most of the time they hung out at Miranda's house. Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez were fine with Gordo being there so often. They knew Jeremy was now out of the picture, and they did not worry about their daughter spending so much time with Gordo, obviously aware that he posed no threat to her virtue.

So they had no problem leaving Miranda home alone one Friday night, while they took off for an impromptu getaway to a beach hotel. Miranda's little sister Stevie was sleeping over a friend's house.

"They've left you alone?" Gordo said, hearing the news as he came into Miranda's house with his grocery bag of treats. "They trust you that much now?"

"What's not to trust?" Miranda asked. "They know I'm a good girl."

"It just seems a big jump for your parents," Gordo said. "I remember in ninth grade they wouldn't let you carry a cell phone. Now they trust you with the entire house for an entire night?"

"I'm sixteen!" Miranda exclaimed. "I'm not a child anymore. Besides, Mrs. Randolph is right next door, only a phone call away. I can handle it."

"And they wouldn't mind if they knew I was over here with you?" Gordo wondered.

Miranda p-shawed. "My parents think you are the best thing since sliced bread. They love you, in case you haven't noticed."

"And they don't worry that I might take advantage of the situation?"

"Oh, please!" Miranda laughed. "As if!"

Gordo wasn't sure how to take this. On the one hand he was pleased that Mr. and Mrs. Sanchez trusted him. He also considered that his attempts to attain sexlessness must be advancing nicely, if the parents of the girl he spent so much time with were not worried about her being alone with him. At the same time, though, he felt perturbed, for the very same reason.

"What have you got tonight?" Miranda asked suddenly, trying to peek into the bag.

"Hold on!" Gordo said. "It's a double whammy. Salty and sweet."

"Show me! I'm starving!" Miranda insisted, grabbing for the bag.

"Wait! Wait!" he laughed. "Let me change my shirt first!"

Every night when Gordo came over, he got out his sweaty polyester workshirt and put on a tee shirt instead. He was spending so much time at Miranda's, he simply kept two or three shirts folded up in the laundry room. He left his dirty shirts in the basket and Mrs. Sanchez washed them as needed. It was a very comfortable arrangement that clearly indicated how much Gordo was accepted by this family.

Gordo now went to the laundry room and slipped into a plain gray tee, which smelled "springtime fresh!" Instantly he felt better. He made Miranda, who was waiting for him impatiently, follow him into the kitchen, before he pulled out a giant bag of Doritos, and a jar of salsa.

"Oh, my favorite!" she exclaimed. "That's dinner! Now what's for dessert?"

Gordo reached into the bag and brought forth a box of frozen Creamsicles. He saw Miranda's face light up, then instantly darken.

"What?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing," she said, trying for an attitude of nonchalance. "Creamsicles are nice, I suppose."

"You love them!" Gordo reminded. "Don't you remember that time in fifth grade---"

"Oh, that was a long time ago," Miranda said. "Things change."

"Not the way you feel about Creamsicles," Gordo noted perceptively. "What's going on, Randa?"

"Nothing," she insisted. "Let's sit down and get at these chips, okay?"

Gordo went into the family room and set up the video game. Miranda brought out two cans of soda and the chips and salsa. They settled back for a long session of snacking as they saved the universe from destruction. The chips were long gone, and Gordo way ahead in the game, when he suddenly announced, "I'm still hungry. I'm going to have one of those Creamsicles now. Sure you don't want one?"

He watched Miranda's face fall again. Something was wrong! He turned on the couch to face her. "Enough all ready!" he said. "You're going to tell me what's going on."

Miranda looked away, biting her lip.

"Randa…" he insisted.

"Okay, it's like this," Miranda blurted out. "Jeremy loved Creamsicles."

"Jeremy?" Gordo said. "You mean that jackass that cheated on you while you were on vacation? Don't tell me you're still hung up on him. Come on, Randa, I know you're smarter than that."

"No, it's not that at all," Miranda exclaimed. "You're right. I'm long over him. It's just that…that…"

Gordo waited, then said, "What? It's just that… what?"

Miranda sighed. "Cone of Silence?"

"Cone of Silence," Gordo agreed, making the motions with his hands.

"You can't tell anyone, because even though he is a jackass, I don't want to be the one responsible for getting him into trouble."

Gordo knit his brow in confusion. "What kind of trouble can you get into with Creamsicles?"

"Not with Creamsicles," Miranda said. "But you can get in trouble with…with weed…"

"You mean pot?" Gordo asked. "You mean Jeremy smoked pot? He was a pothead?"

"He wasn't exactly a pothead," Miranda clarified. "He didn't smoke it that much. But when he did, he said his favorite thing to do, when he got the Munchies, was to eat Creamsicles. He said that weed kind of dries out your throat, and the ice cream feels so good going down, and it tastes so good…better than it could ever taste when you're not high."

Gordo looked at Miranda a long time before asking the obvious question. "And did you ever…?"

"No! No!" Miranda exclaimed. "He always wanted me to try it with him, but I never did. You know…'Just Say No to Drugs,'" she added with a little laugh.

"All that brainwashing in middle school…it really stuck with you, huh?" Gordo said.

"Well, sure. Who can forget the way they drummed it into us? But, you know…that wasn't the real reason why I wouldn't do it with him. It wasn't about the weed. I really don't have that much of an objection to weed, do you? I mean, as far as I can see, it's no better or worse than alcohol. I wouldn't be adverse to trying it…would you? I mean, under the right circumstances. But with Jeremy, it was never the right circumstances."

"Why not?" Gordo wondered.

"Because…because…I never really felt I could trust him. I mean, if he got high, and I got high, and if it clouded our judgment, I was just afraid there would be too much chance that…that something might happen."

"Something like what?" Gordo asked, but he was pretty sure he knew.

"Something like sex," Miranda said, confirming his suspicions. "I mean, at the time I liked him, well enough to kiss him and…stuff…but not stuff like actually having sex. He was always kind of pressuring me, even when he wasn't high, so I was afraid if I did get high with him, it wouldn't be good, know what I mean? When I do decide to…do that, it's going to be with someone really special. Someone I really like a lot, and can trust…with my whole heart…"

Gordo felt his whole heart beating faster, which was stupid, he chastised himself, because this had nothing whatsoever to do with him.. It was just strange to hear Miranda talking about sex. Heck! It was strange to hear anyone talking about sex, when he had so studiously been avoiding the subject for weeks.

"Anyway," Miranda said suddenly, "I'm just kind of wondering…if you've ever tried it…"

Gordo looked at her in alarm. "No!" he exclaimed emphatically. Then, "Tried what?"

"Weed!" Miranda replied. "What did you think I---?" She burst out laughing. "Oh, sorry! That's not what I meant."

Gordo blushed as he admitted, more quietly, "No. I've never tried weed. Or…or the other thing you're talking about."

"Neither have I," Miranda said. "Neither of those things."

Gordo was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. So was Miranda. They sat quietly for a moment, not sure how to go on. Gordo looked at her and forced a smile.

"Anyway," he said, "about those Creamsicles…"

"I really wonder what they must taste like when you're high," Miranda said suddenly. "What must they taste like when you've got the Munchies."

Gordo nodded his head in agreement. "Yep," he said. "That sure is something to wonder about."

"Well, we don't have to go on wondering about it," Miranda said slowly. "We could find out…if you really wanted to."

"Randa…" he said carefully.

"I have a joint," she revealed. "Jeremy left it here one day, before I went on vacation. It's been in my sock drawer, rolled up in a pair of leggings I never wear, for over two months now. I don't know how fresh it will be, but I think it will still do the trick. I don't think it really goes bad, does it?"

"Why are you asking me?" Gordo exclaimed. "How in the world would I know?"

"Because you seem to know everything, Gordo."

"Well, I don't know that!"

"Then…would you like to find out? With me? Now?"

"You want to?" Gordo asked, still feeling his heart beating so fast. "I mean…you're not afraid…?"

"Afraid of what?" Miranda asked. "Of you? Of something happening? No, Gordo. Not at all. That's why I'm asking you. Because I trust you. Implicitly. Is that the word?"

"Meaning 'absolutely'? Yes, that's the word."

"And I know you trust me," Miranda continued. "I know there's no chance we're going to let anything stupid happen, just because we're high. We're friends, right? It would be totally cool. I've been wanting to smoke this joint for quite a while, just curious, you know, but I didn't want to do it on my own, in case I start to freak out or something. But if my pal Gordo is here with me, I know everything will be okay."

"How can you say that?" Gordo wondered. "If I'm high like you are, then what good am I going to be? What if I start freaking out? Then what are you going to do?"

"Gordo," Miranda said with certainty. "I cannot for the life of me imagine you freaking out. You are my rock. You are my friend. You will be there for me. I'm so certain of that. This is the only way I feel safe doing this."

"Maybe you should smoke and I'll just…be here with you. Just in case," Gordo suggested, always the cautious one.

"No fun," Miranda said. "I want you to enjoy this with me. Come on, Gordo. Do this with me, okay? We'll just smoke a little, get really relaxed, and let the Munchies kick in and eat those delicious Creamsicles you brought over. It will be okay. It will be fun. Are you up for it? Please?"

Gordo sat back on the couch, sighing deeply. He closed his eyes, considering the proposition. But he did not have to consider it for very long. For quite some time he had wondered, just as Miranda wondered, what this might be like. And with Miranda, he felt safe, as safe as she felt with him. There would probably never be a better opportunity. And he had been so tense these last weeks. A little relaxation might do him good.

"Okay," he said, leaning back into the couch, eyes still closed. He heard his own voice, and it sounded strange. It almost sounded like somebody else, or like he was already high.

"Okay," he repeated, cementing his decision. "Let's do it. Let's do this thing. You and me. Right now."


	4. Drugs, Sex and Rock & Roll

_To brie: Thank you! Thank you! I think your review on Chapter 3 was the best comment I have ever gotten! This is also one of my favorite LM stories. And by the way, you're not the only one: I make MYSELF want my own Gordo!_

_To cka…, I laughed at your comment about "Gordo, Miranda, cheery pie, creamsicles, pot. It doesn't get much hotter." Well, yes. It does get hotter! Just give me a couple of chapters to get there. _

_I know everybody has widely varying opinions and experiences in regards to drugs, and I hope I will not offend anyone with the contents of this chapter. I can only write what feels true to me. I'm not condoning or discouraging anything, I'm just telling a story. _

_And, oh yes, this isn't strictly a songfic, but the music of Better Than Ezra, my favorite band, is going to figure pretty heavily in the storyline, a bit in this chapter, much more in the next. I figure if I can effectively combine Lizzie McGuire and Better Than Ezra, then I must be some kind of genius---hehehe! It works for me, I hope it will work for you all. _

-

The first thing Miranda did was to make sure the house was in order, all doors locked, all electrical appliances off. She sprinkled fish food in her father's aquarium, as she had been requested to do. Then she called her parents, checking in, letting them know that everything was fine, and that she would probably be going to bed early. She also called Mrs. Randolph next door with the same message.

"Geez," Gordo marveled. "For someone about to smoke pot, you're incredibly responsible."

"It has nothing to do with responsibility," Miranda explained. "I don't want us to be disturbed. I think everything's good now. Come on. Let's go upstairs."

Gordo followed Miranda up the stairs and into her bedroom. He had made this trip with her hundreds of times before over the years, but somehow this was different. His heart was still beating faster than usual. He couldn't believe he was going to do this.

Miranda rummaged around in her sock drawer and found the leggings. Unrolling them, the joint fell out on to the top of the dresser. "Well, there it is," she announced.

They both looked at the tiny roll of paper, twisted off at both ends. They were speechless for a moment, then Gordo said, "Do you have matches?"

"I have them here, for my candles. Come on, let's go in the bathroom."

"The bathroom?" Gordo asked. "Why?"

"In case there's a lingering smell from the smoke. I don't want it to get absorbed into my curtains, or my blankets or anything like that. And in the bathroom, we can wash the ashes down the sink."

"Geez!" Gordo marveled again. "You've really thought this out, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Miranda confirmed. "I've been hoping to do this for quite some time. I was just waiting for the perfect moment. And I think this is it."

-

It was strange being in the bathroom. They both realized they had never been alone together in a bathroom. Why would they be? Something new was about to happen here. They kept the door open, with only the light from the hallway falling softly into the small room. That made it a little easier to do this, a little easier to look at each other as they each felt themselves advancing towards a moment of no return.

"Okay," Miranda said, lighting a match. "Last chance to back out."

"I'm not backing out," Gordo said. "Do you know how to do this?"

"I've seen Jeremy," Miranda said. "And I've seen it in movies."

"So have I," Gordo said. "I mean, I've seen it in movies. I haven't seen Jeremy, though."

"Don't worry, you aren't missing anything. He would get all stupid and dramatic. He would do it like this."

Miranda lit the end of the joint, and then leaning against the bathroom counter, she pulled her body back, taking the longest, deepest toke she could. Instantly she was coughing and hacking.

"Randa!" Gordo exclaimed.

"Oh, man!" she spit out. "I guess that technique is not for beginners. I just burned the hell out of my throat. Yaaack!"

"Slow down, girl. We have all night."

"Okay, let's try this again."

They experimented, taking it much more slowly, first one, then the other. The laughed together as they perfected their technique. Miranda got hysterical when some ashes fell on the floor. She wiped them up with a washcloth, then rinsed the washcloth out in the sink as thoroughly as if it was covered with the blood of her latest murder victim.

"Chill!" Gordo laughed. "Feeling a little guilty, are we?"

"Just a little," Miranda admitted.

After a while, when they had burned the joint down about halfway, Gordo wondered, "How much of this are we supposed to smoke, anyway?"

"I don't know, but let's not overdo it," Miranda said. "This should be enough. And then there'll be something left for another time. Give me that thing." She extinguished the flame in the porcelain sink, then ran some water over the basin.

"How long is it going to take for this to kick in?" Gordo wondered.

"You know," Miranda joked, "For a know-it-all, you're sounding pretty pathetic right about now."

"Well, I don't know!" Gordo exclaimed. "I never paid attention in health class. I never thought any information about drugs would pertain to me personally."

"Do you feel anything yet?" Miranda asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a little. How about you?"

"A little weird. Not much. Come on, let me put this back in my sock drawer while I still have my wits about me. Otherwise my parents will walk in tomorrow afternoon and find it lying here and it will be, '_Chiquita!_ Qué pasa?'"

"Don't want that happening," Gordo agreed as he followed her back to the bedroom.

Miranda put the joint back in the leggings and rolled it up, shoving the roll into the back, then closed the drawer.

"Are you sure it was really out?" Gordo asked. "I mean, there wasn't a spark left in it, was there?"

"Why would you even think something like that?" Miranda demanded in exasperation.

"Because I'm a super cautious type of guy," Gordo answered without hesitation. "I wouldn't want you to burn your house down."

Miranda growled in frustration. Now that he'd said that, she had to take out the leggings, unroll them, and check the joint. Showing it to Gordo, she exclaimed, "Look! Look! It's out! Are you satisfied?"

"Yeah, that looks good," Gordo agreed. "I'm okay now."

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can relax now?"

"Yes," he said. "I'm ready to relax now."

Miranda returned her "stash" to its secret hiding place, and Gordo asked, "Feeling anything yet, Randa?"

"I don't know. Maybe. How about you?"

"I don't know. Maybe we didn't smoke enough."

"I am not taking that thing out again!" Miranda said testily. "Will you calm down already and just let it happen?"

"What do we do now?" Gordo asked. "I mean, where should we be? Downstairs? Do you want to go watch some TV or what?"

"TV's okay," Miranda said. "But there's something better. At least Jeremy always said this was the best thing to do when you got high."

For one unreal moment, Gordo found himself consumed with the idea that Miranda was going to suggest sex. After all, she had pretty much admitted that Jeremy had more than a passing interest, and she had suspected that's what would happen if she ever got high with him.

Could it be that Miranda, despite all her objections to the contrary, harbored a secret attraction to him, Gordo, and this invitation to smoke pot had been a ploy intended to loosen him up and leave him defenseless against her advances? Gordo felt his body go completely numb. Was this the pot? Or had his wild imagination put him in a clinical state of shock?

"Music!" Miranda said.

"What?" Gordo had temporarily lost his train of thought, and felt quite confused.

"Jeremy said the best thing to do was to lay back and listen to music, that the weed really opens up your mind to the music, so you can hear it like you've never heard it before."

"Oh…" Gordo said, catching up. He was beginning to feel that something strange was happening to his mind and body. "But…but what about…the Creamsicles?"

"That will come later," Miranda said. "It takes a little while for the Munchies to kick in. First let's listen to some music. Go lay down on the bed. I'll find us a good CD to listen to."

"Oh…okay," Gordo said as he dutifully went over to the bed. He knew this couldn't be right, this couldn't be good. Why was he taking orders from Miranda? Why did he not object to being ordered to lie down on her bed? Could it be that he in fact harbored a secret attraction towards her, and that he was hoping, as Miranda had put it earlier, that "something might happen"? It was too bizarre to even think about!

He knew the pot was kicking in. He lay down on the bed, closed his eyes, felt his head spinning. He saw Father Gordo the Fat Monk in the whirlwind, waving goodbye as he catapulted up towards the ceiling.

"Oh, this is good!" Gordo heard Miranda saying, as if from a great distance. Some undetermined amount of time later, he felt her bounce on to the bed beside him as at the same time strong guitar music began to reverberate through the air.

Some years ago, Miranda's parents had bought her this new bed, trading in her twin size mattress for a full size. The bed was big enough for two people to lie down on together, but not with much room between them. Gordo was on the right side, Miranda had plopped herself down on the left.

Gordo opened his eyes and saw her up on her knees, facing him. She pushed out her chest, reaching behind her back and up her shirt with both hands. A moment later, she reached up her short sleeves, pulling down her bra straps on either side, releasing her arms from their confines. Then her hand disappeared up the middle of her shirt and pulled her bra out altogether, throwing it on the floor.

"What are you doing?" Gordo screamed, about to have a heart attack.

"I'm getting comfortable," Miranda answered easily, though somewhat confused by his reaction. "Why? What did you think I---?" She started to laugh. "Oh, Gordo! You're so funny! Did you think I was trying to start something? Oh my God! You're so funny!"

"Well, I'm glad you think it's funny," Gordo said sarcastically, feeling his heart pounding in his chest more strongly than he'd ever felt it before.

"What is up with you?" Miranda grinned. "Just because Parker was after your bod doesn't mean every girl you meet wants to rape you. You've got to get over this, buddy."

Gordo listened to her words, and he didn't know if it was the pot or just the plain common sense of what she said, but suddenly he realized that he was an absolute fool to ever think he had to give up sex completely. That was a bit extreme, wasn't it? Yes, he had to get over this. There must be a more appropriate way to handle his overwhelming impulses. He was just feeling a little too weird to work out the details at the moment.

"Randa…" he said, wanting to say something, but he wasn't sure what. He wanted to thank her for opening up his eyes, but he wasn't sure he would be able, at this point, to explain the whole thing in complete, coherent English sentences. Besides, Miranda was talking again.

"I told you before, Gordon," she said. "I don't think of you as anything more than a friend. Never have, never will. Now shut up and enjoy the music."

Having said this, Miranda lay down beside him. Gordo could feel the warmth of her body next to his, her presence. She felt good. Gordo felt himself relaxing into the moment.

What he couldn't feel was the conflict going inside Miranda's own mind. She hadn't been exactly truthful with him, had she? _Never have _been attracted to him What about everything that happened last November, after Nicole moved away and Gordo was devastated by her loss? Miranda had been there every step of the way for him, the textbook definition of "a friend in need." And in the process, had she not begun to develop feelings for him, feelings that were more than friendship? Of course she had managed to convince herself that it was ridiculous, and she squashed down those feelings until they were almost completely suffocated, almost completely dead.

But could it be that now a breath of life was creeping back in? Quite against her will, she might add. She didn't need this complication now. Everything was going so well. Why was it that when everything was going well, that was when---

"What are we listening to?" Gordo asked suddenly, bringing Miranda out of her deep thoughts.

"Oh, this," she said. "This is a CD Jeremy left here. It's a band called Better Than Ezra. Jeremy's older brother turned him on. Good rock and roll. Can you hear it?"

"I can hear it," Gordo said.

"I mean…can you _really_ hear it?"

"I think I hear it," Gordo said. "What am I listening for?"

"Just lay back and relax," Miranda says. "Jeremy says you'll know it when it happens."

Gordo lay back and relaxed. With the distraction of Miranda removing her bra now well behind him, he at last felt able to relax. And now, at last, as he relaxed, every muscle in his body sinking into the bed, he felt his mind take flight. He felt his spirit take flight.

And then it happened. The world disappeared. He was in a place where nothing existed but the music. He was inside the music, experiencing it from the inside out, as he had never experienced music before, riding on the bass guitar beat, his heart beating to the rhythm of the drums, carried away on a song..

An involuntary chuckle escaped his lips. "Wow…" he breathed.

"What?" he heard Miranda ask quietly beside him.

"It's happened," he said easily.

"I know," Miranda smiled. "I'm there too."

Gordo felt a huge stupid grin break out across his face as he floated away on the music, glad he was here, and glad Miranda was here with him.

What was going to happen next? For once in his life, he didn't know, and he didn't care. All that mattered was that he had this one…perfect…moment…

And Miranda was there with him

-

_Not done yet._


	5. What Planet Are We On?

_My inspiration song is Overcome, by Better Than Ezra, on their latest CD, Before the Robots. You don't need to know the song to appreciate this chapter, but if you do, it will seem that much richer._

_ Thanks for all your comments. And cka...in regards to your last comment...you will not be disappointed!_

_-_

-

It felt like forever. But in a good way.

Gordo knew it couldn't have been forever, or even close to it. He knew the average song ran three or four minutes, and as far as he could remember, they had only listened to three or four songs so far. Three or four songs at three or four minutes each….he knew he should be able to easily do the math in his head, but at this point….what the hell…who cared….

It was good. It was all good.

Miranda felt the same way. She was lying down beside her best friend Gordo, and they weren't talking, and they didn't need to. She knew he was feeling the same way she did. This was incredible. She'd never felt more at peace. She'd never felt more connected. She and Gordo were sharing something they had never shared before.

"What comes next?" she heard him ask.

"What…what do you mean?" she managed.

"What song?"

"I don't know…I put it on….scramble….on mix up…on…" Suddenly she giggled. "Oh man! I am _so_ stoned!"

Gordo laughed too, feeling the grin stretch his face. "So am I…"

They lay next to each other, looking up at the ceiling, laughing together, listening to the music, not knowing what song came next, not knowing anything about what was coming next.

What was coming next just kind of snuck up on them.

-

Gordo sighed.

Miranda heard him sigh. She got inside his sigh. It was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard, even more beautiful than this music. Man! She was stoned. She smiled at herself for feeling that everything that happened was so profound. She wanted to hear Gordo sigh again. It was such a beautiful sound…

"Gordo…?" she whispered.

"Hmmm?"

Miranda felt herself shiver as she floated away on his "Hmmm?"

She felt the mattress moving under her, as if an earthquake was about to swallow her up. She realized it was only Gordo turning on the bed. Slowly, she opened her eyes, turned her head and looked at him.

"Randa," he said quietly. "What?"

He had turned. He was lying on his side now, one arm under his head, and he was looking at her. She turned on her side, enduring another earthquake, and lay there looking back at him. The room was dark, but a light from the hallway gave just enough illumination for them to see each other in soft shadows.

"What?" Miranda asked absently.

"I'm asking you _what_," Gordo said. "Why did you….did you…say my name? Did you? Did you say my name?" It had only happened a moment ago, but he couldn't quite remember.

And it didn't really matter anyway.

Miranda continued to look at him. She continued to gaze at him. He was gazing back at her. This went on a long, long time, until at last Gordo said again, "…What?"

"Your eyes," Miranda said softly. "I've never seen your eyes before. They're so…big. They're so….black…"

"My eyes are not black, Randa."

"Yes, they are. They're black…they're deep…"

"That must be my… pupils…dialated…yours too….deep…"

For a few moments after that, neither of them said anything more, as they continued gazing into the deepness of each other's eyes.

On some level, Gordo knew this was weird. He could never have looked at her this long or this intently in his sober life without feeling uncomfortable and turning away. But he was past that now. And it was wonderful. To be able to look at her like this, to look at her and really see her…

"Randa…" he whispered, though he wasn't sure why.

Suddenly she reached out and touched him.

He drew in a deep breath. She was touching him…but where? Oh…he figured it out…her hand… on his hand… on the bed between them. As it was, they were only about a foot apart, but now they seemed even closer. He felt the pressure of her hand on his. It felt so warm, almost hot. Warm…hot…pressure…

And then he felt something else, in another part of his body that till this very moment had felt so far away, sleeping, maybe even dead. But now there was a sensation, that familiar sensation… warm…hot…pressure…

He drew in another deep breath. No, this couldn't be happening. This wasn't supposed to happen to him anymore. Hadn't he taken such pains top transcend this all too common phenomenon?

"Randa," he managed to say. "You shouldn't be touching me. I wish you wouldn't touch me."

But she did not remove her hand, and she did not look away. If anything, her stare grew more intense. And despite his objections, he also did not move his hand or look away.

Gordo's mind was racing, trying to figure out how this was happening. "Randa," he said. "Didn't you just tell me you never…never ever thought of me like…like that…"

She grinned. "I guess I lied," she said sheepishly.

The music had changed, and the tune was haunting. As Gordo lay there, staring at Miranda, unable to look away, for the first time he heard the words.

_"I feel strange..._

_I feel changed…"_

Oh, God! He did feel strange. Stranger than he ever had in his life, and the strangest part of all was that even in the depths of his drug-induced state, he knew the strangeness was not entirely due to the drugs. He knew this was about Miranda. He realized he had never seen her before, never felt her touch before…until now…

And she liked him. And he liked her. He hadn't really known it till this moment, but now there was no denying the truth.

_"I feel stra…aaa…ange…_

_Overcome…_

_Overcome…by you…"_

Miranda was hearing the words too. She also felt strange. She also felt changed, and overcome. Overcome by…Gordo. By her very best friend. Whose eyes were so dark and so deep, whose hair was so unbearably curly…

She found herself letting go of his hand to reach up and touch his hair.

Gordo closed his eyes, steadying himself. "Randa…" he said with difficulty.

"I love…your hair…" she whispered. "I have always loved your hair. And I have been wanting to touch it…to touch it again…ever since first grade when….when…on the playground…do you remember…?"

Gordo felt himself shaking, as the pressure below grew more pronounced. Suddenly he remembered that he had decided…hadn't he? And only a few minutes ago….that it would be alright to think about sex.

But not with Randa. Oh, God, no! This couldn't be happening! Okay, he liked her, but he wasn't ready for this. This couldn't be happening. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed her arm to stop her from playing with his hair, which was feeling altogether too sensuous for him.

Miranda looked at him, wounded. "Gordo…?"

"Please don't…" he said desperately.

"Don't what?" she asked in a small voice.

Gordo couldn't answer, but the words of the song filled the room and everything that was happening in and around them.

_"I fell in too deep_

_But I learned to swim_

_In an undertow_

_I sense I'm giving in…"_

Gordo felt his heart beating so fast. He felt himself giving in. He didn't want to, and yet so badly he wanted nothing more than to give in. He looked from Miranda's deep eyes to her parted lips. Her lips looked so dry. He realized that his own lips felt as dry as hers looked. He realized with absolute certainty that her lips were parted because she wanted him to kiss her. And then he closed his eyes, and somehow closed the inches between them, brushing his dry lips against hers.

She gasped, and so did he, at the same moment. And in the next moment, it was less like brushing, and more like real kissing, their tongues touching, but just barely, and only for the shortest moment.

But their tongues felt less dry than their lips, so they sought each other's tongues again for relief against the dryness, and the kiss that ensued was like something from another dimension.

_"I feel strange…_

_I feel changed…_

_I feel stra…aaa…ange…_

_Overcome…_

_Overcome…_

_By you…oooo…oooo…"_

Now they were both shaking, as they broke apart, touching their foreheads to each other, laughing lightly, somewhat nervously.

Gordo let out a deep sigh, which Miranda once again found herself floating away on before she heard him snicker and say, "Wh…what planet are we on?"

"Planet Gordo," Miranda answered, never skipping a beat. "Planet Gordo and Miranda. Planet…Gor…Randa. Planet Gorranda."

Gordo laughed. He loved this girl! She was so funny! She was so witty. She was the perfect girl for him. Why had he never seen this before? Why had he wasted so many years on Lizzie, when all this time Miranda had been right here…?

He pulled her close and kissed her again, passionately. Her lips, her mouth, were incredible. He had his hands in her hair, even as she had her hands in his hair. Her hair was incredible, everything about her was incredible. And he wanted her so much. He wanted---he wanted---

It must be the pot, making him so keenly aware of what he wanted. Father Gordo, the Fat Monk was gone, having crashed against the ceiling ages ago. Gordo felt his inner critic, his internal judge, was now as stoned as he was, and not likely to bother him or try to stop him. There was no one here to censor him or tell him what to do. He felt no influence upon his decision-making process other than the persistent throbbing inside his pants.

As he pulled Miranda closer to him, she felt it too and let out a squeal.

"Gordo!" she said in surprise and delight.

"Oh, God, Randa! I feel…"

"I feel it too…" she giggled. "Do you want…?"

He caught his breath, his head spinning. "Do I want…what?" he asked carefully, hopefully.

In answer, she drew her body against his again, pressing into him as she placed his hand inside her shirt. His hand traveled upwards to where her bra should be, and he was suddenly reminded that she was not wearing one. In that moment, he almost completely lost it.

"Randa," he breathed, her boldness and the position of his own hands shocking him into a memory of what it meant to be responsible. "You told me you didn't want to…until you were sure…until you found the right one…."

"Gordo, you are the right one. You always have been. I see that now. I was a fool to waste my time with anyone else. And I'm so glad I never did anything with Jeremy. I'm so glad I waited for this moment. With you. Because this is going to be perfect. You and me, Gordo. It's going to be perfect."

Gordo pulled away from Miranda as he concentrated fervently upon bringing his body under control. This was more than he could handle. He called desperately for his inner critic to return and put a halt to what was happening before he completely lost it.

"Randa," he said, taking his hand out from under her shirt. "I think…I know…I want you as much as I think…I know… you want me. No, no! Don't touch me like that, not now. Wait a minute. We have to talk."

"What's to talk?" she asked, kissing his neck, rubbing his shoulders.

"I wasn't completely asleep in Health Class, you know. I paid attention in the Sex Ed part, and I know that we can't…we can't do this…I'm not going to take a chance with you….we can't do this without…protection…"

"Oh that," she said easily. She kept on kissing him, reaching her hands up inside his shirt, rubbing his chest, and he kept trying to hold her back, because he could feel that he was only moments away from losing it. He was able to hold her off at arm's length, and then he heard the words that chilled him from the inside out.

"But I do have protection," Miranda said excitedly. "Jeremy left a condom in my room, hoping if I ever changed my mind, we would be ready. It's in the back of my underwear drawer. I could get it…you could put it on…"

Gordo was still holding her off, but he had his face pressed against her neck, feeling he could not breath, when Miranda added, in the softest, sexiest voice imaginable, "…or… you know…I could put it on _for_ you…"

As soon as he heard those words, as excited as he had been by the idea of actually having sex, the sudden, real image of Miranda touching him _there_ was more than he could stand.

"No…" he lamented, bracing himself, his entire body tensed, as he felt the inevitable approaching.

"Gordo…?" Miranda questioned, squeezing his arms as she tried to work through the confusion and disappointment of his single "No."

And then, too quickly, Gordo felt the release, the surging, the warmth, the wetness, and he dug his face into Miranda's neck, moaning, "Oh, God…Oh, God…"

For only the briefest moment did it feel absolutely wonderful to be letting go like this, and then in the next moment he felt mortified, saddened, ashamed. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened. And the only saving grace was that, as far as he could tell, Miranda was unaware.

"Gordo, it's okay," she said softly in response to his moans, thinking he was wrestling with his conscience. "We can do this."

"No, we _can't_," he said miserably, yet grateful that at the moment Miranda did not understand that his "can't" did not simply mean"shouldn't" ; it literally meant "can't."

"Gordo! What's wrong?" Miranda exclaimed, trying to pull closer.

He pushed her away. He sat up on the bed, his entire world flipping itself inside out as he did. He stood up and almost fell down.

"I have to go," he announced.

"Gordo!" she screamed, confused and heartbroken.

"No, I have to go." There was nothing left to do but go. His only thought was to get out of this room and out of this house without tumbling down the stairs.

Miranda in her bedroom, calling his name, was sucked into his past as he walked out of that room. He took the long trek down the upstairs hallway and began to descend the stairs.

All his concentration at this moment had to be focused on not falling down these stairs. He could too easily see himself at the bottom, bent and crumbled in a heap, unconscious, with the paramedics standing over him, saying, "This boy's been smoking weed! And what's this on his pants? Did he wet himself? No! Oh my God! It's…it's…" He heard the imaginary paramedics laughing hysterically as they proclaimed, "Can you believe it? What a pathetic dweeb!"

Gordo was already out the door, allowing himself to be enveloped by the night, hoping the darkness would see him all the way home and into the safety of his own room.

Oh, if only he could get into his house without his parents seeing him, questioning him, he promised himself he would never, ever again smoke pot, he would never, ever again even _think_ the word s-e-x, he would search the universe for the return of Father Gordo the Fat Monk, welcoming him as a long lost friend.

And somehow…somehow…he would find a way to explain all of this to Miranda.

-

_One more chapter after this, to tie up the loose ends._


	6. Planet Gorranda

_LAST CHAPTER! _

_Well, this will be it for this particular story, but this is definitely not the end of all the stories I am planning to write for this particular Gordo. He does not get to have sex with Miranda in this story, because I have already established in The Graduate that his first time will be with a girl named Jenny when he gets to college. I don't know anything yet about Jenny except her name, and I may or may not write out that story in detail at some later date, haven't decided yet._

_What I do know is that my next story in this series will be called "Gordo's Girls" and it will take place, chronologically, after "Love Finds David Gordon" (already written) but before "Parker's Revenge" (not yet written). "Gordo's Girls" may not appear until December, as I expect to be taking a month off from FanFiction in November to give my full attention to my NaNoWriMo project. In the meantime, I am contemplating a one-shot that hopefully will appear in October, before I start planning for my NaNo..  
_

_I am also tentatively planning a story about Gordo and his cousin Adam RV-ing around the country with their Grandma Ruth. Believe it or not, this will also be a heavy MG story. I'm seriously considering having Gordo end up with Miranda when all is said and done. What do you think?_

_Thanks for all your support on this story I am just finishing up. It's been a blast!_

_-_

-

"Gordo, we need to talk."

Gordo sighed into his cell phone. "I know."

"Are you busy?" Miranda asked.

"Kinda. I'm at work." With one hand he was holding his cell phone, with the other he was attempting to get a huge box of Rice Crispies into an uncooperative plastic bag.

"Then we can't talk now," Miranda said. "When do you get off?"

_At the most inconvenient and embarrassing moment possible,_ Gordo thought, smirking to himself. What he said was, "Five o'clock."

"I'll wait for you," Miranda said. "Out front. On the bench. Don't you dare think about trying to slip out the back."

"Why would I do that?" Gordo questioned. "I know we need to talk."

"Okay then. I'll see you later."

As he clicked off his phone and dropped it in his pocket, once again giving full attention to his bagging activities, he couldn't help wondering, yet again, what Miranda must think of him. A part of him felt certain she must hate him. Another part wondered if she was as confused as he was. No matter what might come of it, they definitely needed to talk.

-

It seemed that five o'clock would never come. About four thirty, Gordo started looking at the bench outside the front of the store, every time he took an order of groceries to a car. By 4:55 Miranda was still not there. Had she changed her mind? He wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to see him again.

As Gordo came back into the store for the last time that evening, he looked, and suddenly Miranda was there, sitting on the bench as she had promised. She was wearing that little boy tee shirt again, and her rattiest pair of blue jeans, the ones he knew she went for like a security blanket, whenever a difficult task awaited her

He was her difficult task. He hated that, and he hated the look of nervous anxiety on her beautiful face. He tried to smile as he approached, but he was afraid he wouldn't be winning any prizes with this expression.

"Hi," he said quietly.

"Hi," she returned, also quietly.

"I'll be right out," he said, and she nodded.

When Gordo went back into the store, Miranda closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She still didn't know what she was going to say to him. She only knew they had to start talking, and she hoped that fate and common sense would lead them in the right direction.

Now Gordo was beside her, sitting down. "Hi," he said again.

"Hi," she said again.

"Hi…" he said, again, absently.

Miranda looked at him. "I think we've established that."

"Established what?"

"'Hi,'" she said.

"Yeah, I guess we have," he agreed. "I think we've both said 'hi' enough for the time being."

"And I think we've both _been_ high enough for the time being," Miranda added.

Gordo actually found himself laughing. He really did love this girl. She could always make him laugh. They could be so good together…couldn't they?

They sat silently for a few moments, swinging their feet, neither knowing how to begin. They watched a young mother come out of the store, a two year old screaming in the front seat of the shopping cart, another baby in her belly. Miranda noted with alarm that this woman did not look too many years older than she was. Sex was dangerous. What had she been thinking?

"Miranda…" Gordo said finally.

"Gordo, what happened last night?" Miranda asked suddenly.

"What happened?" he repeated. He swung his feet some more, then smiled wistfully and said, "I think what happened is…for the first time ever…we visited Planet Gorranda."

Miranda gasped. "You remember that?"

"I remember _everything_," Gordo said. "Trouble is…I don't remember it as if it really happened. I remember it all as if it were a dream."

Miranda considered, then said, "Maybe it _was_ only a dream. Maybe it's not something that's supposed to be real for us."

She paused, observing Gordo's expression, waiting for him to confirm or deny, desperately trying to figure out what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

At last Gordo said, "Well, maybe…maybe not yet."

"What do you mean…'not yet'?"

"Do you think either of us was really ready for what happened last night?" Gordo asked. "Do you feel mature enough, right now, at sixteen, to handle all the problems and issues that are invariably going to attach themselves to…to using drugs…and having sex?"

Miranda looked down. "No," she said quietly.

"Neither do I," Gordo said. "It was scary. I panicked. I'm sorry." In fact he had panicked, so this was not exactly a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth. And as honest as he was being with Miranda about everything else, he had sworn to himself that he was not going to tell her the whole truth about what happened to him last night. It was just too embarrassing.

"It was scary," Gordo went on, "because even in the middle of all of it, I realized I was acting without thinking. For the most part. But I was thinking enough to know that acting without thinking can lead to disaster. And I'm not willing to risk disaster with you, Miranda. You mean too much to me. I value our friendship too much."

Miranda knew she should have been touched by his heartfelt words, and on one level she was, but still she could not help herself from blurting out, "So you get up and walk out on me as soon as I throw myself at you? How do you think that made me feel?"

"I wasn't thinking about how you felt," Gordo answered bluntly. "I wasn't thinking about anything but myself. I was being completely selfish. And that's what makes me realize I'm not really ready for anything like that.

"And by the way, for the record," he added, "you didn't exactly 'throw yourself' at me. It was completely mutual."

"No. I distinctly remember you saying 'Please, don't.'"

"No matter what I was saying," Gordo sighed, bracing himself against a pain that was almost physical, "believe me: it was completely mutual." He sat back, thinking, _At least this time it wasn't like what had happened with Parker. At least this time I really did like the girl I was fooling around with. That has to count for something, doesn't it?_

"You know me," Gordo said, when neither had spoken for some time. "I hate it when people are immature and irresponsible. I especially hate it when _I'm_ the one who's immature and irresponsible. And what we were doing last night…well, let's just say I really don't want it going down on my resumé that I'm just some dumb kid that got high and had sex with his best friend."

"Gordo, you don't put stuff like that on your resumé," Miranda advised.

Gordo rolled his eyes. "Figuratively speaking…"

"Oh…"

"Last night, it was all too…too…" Gordo sighed in frustration, unable to express himself. "Last night, I… I _couldn't_ see the right thing to do. But I see it now."

"But you did see if last night," Miranda pointed out. "Otherwise you wouldn't have got up and left."

"I was forced into seeing it last night," Gordo said.

"What do you mean?"

"Never mind," Gordo said. "All you need to know is that I love you, Randa---"

"And I love you too," Miranda said, turning to face him on the bench.

"I know," he said, smiling at her. "But I don't think either one of us is ready…"

Miranda nodded. "I think you're right."

"But I think we'll probably end up there someday---"

"Do you really?" Miranda asked, her face lighting up.

"Yeah, I do, " he said simply. "I think you're the right person, Randa; I just don't think it's the right time. I don't want to force it. I want us to enjoy what we have and let nature take its course. Naturally. With no drugs."

"I want the same thing," Miranda agreed. "So what do we do from here?"

"I think we should just…step back a little, don't you? Sort everything out. See how we feel. See what might happen…naturally."

Miranda was still nodding, now more heartily. "If there's one thing I do know, Gordo, more than anything else in the world, it's that no matter what happens, I don't want our friendship to get ruined. Kissing you last night was…amazing. Thinking about having sex with you …amazing."

She stopped for a moment, lost in those thoughts, then went on. "But I look at what happened with you and Lizzie, how after you broke up you two don't even talk anymore, and I know that I don't want to take that chance. So even if it means I don't ever get to kiss you again… or that we never ever get to have sex…I'm willing to do without any of that. But I'm not willing to do without your friendship. That's not gone, is it?"

He beamed at her. "No, Randa. It's not gone."

"So can we pretend…that last night never happened?"

"We can try," Gordo said. "I'd really like to try." Well, a lot of it he wanted to pretend had never happened. But how it felt to kiss her…that was going to be hard to forget. And he didn't want to forget.

Suddenly Miranda popped up from the bench. "Well then, come on, Gordo! Let's go!"

"Where are we going?" Gordo moaned, as she dragged the tired working man to his feet.

"My house!" Miranda sang.

"Do you think that's wise?"

"Don't worry. The parental units have returned. Does that make you feel better?"

Gordo laughed. "Yeah, actually, it does."

"Then, come on! We still have those Creamsicles in the freezer. That is, if Stevie and my dad haven't consumed them all! I want to have one, don't you? I know they won't taste super good like they would have if we could have stayed on track last night and eaten them when we got the Munchies, but I think they'll still taste pretty damn delicious."

"I'm sure they will," Gordo said as they began to walk. "And that's good enough for me…for now."

"Me too," Miranda said. "Good enough…for now."

-

Gordo sat with Miranda on the "swing thing" in her backyard. It was late, dark, and they were both eating Creamsicles, smiling across at each other now and then, but neither of them saying anything. And that was okay.

Miranda's parents were in the house, cleaning up after dinner. Gordo had stayed for dinner, and it had been nice. Their friendship was not ruined. And that was more than okay.

Gordo sat, swinging…eating…thinking. He was recalling something Miranda had said to him while they had been high together, now trying to determine if it passed the sobriety test: _Just because Parker was after your bod doesn't mean every girl you meet wants to rape you. You've got to get over this, buddy. _At the time, it had seemed to make so much sense.

And it still did.

He looked across at Miranda, smiling silently at her once again, and he knew that she liked him, and that he liked her, but he also knew that for this moment, at least, they had agreed to step back and take it easy. And that was okay.

He felt he could handle that, as long as he didn't get high, or drunk, or allow himself get into any compromising situations. He didn't have to be stupid about sex. He didn't have to be overcome by his impulses each and every time the thought of sex popped into his head. Sure, he had a problem, he realized, but probably no more or less than every other sixteen year old boy.

He didn't have to self-destruft over this.

And if it ever became too much for him to handle alone, Father Gordo the Fat Monk was out there somewhere. Now that Gordo was once again in full command of his faculties, he didn't imagine it would be too difficult to find Father Gordo, should his services ever again be required.

He saw Miranda looking at him, and blushed a little, feeling she had caught him in his thoughts. He finished off his Creamsicle and chewed on the stick. "Pretty damn delicious," he commented, and Miranda smiled at him and nodded.

It had been a little bit of a rough summer so far, Gordo contemplated. But the highlight, the thing he would write about for his "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" essay, if he were to be completely honest, was definitely the unexpected discovery that Planet Gorranda was out there, somewhere, waiting for the right moment to again be visited and explored.

Nah. That was way too personal. He would probably write about how fulfilling it was to hold down a job at Food Giant.

Right…

Gordo smiled at Miranda one more time, then turned on the seat to face her. A mild tingling sensation ran through his body as he could not help but recall exactly what it had felt like to kiss her. He knew with certainty that he would kiss her again someday, on Planet Gorranda. It might be later rather than sooner, but that was okay.

Actually, that was more than okay.

With Miranda, everything was good, everything was easy. There was no need to rush. Getting there, he decided, was half the fun.


End file.
